


Head In The Clouds

by peggysgf



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Kid Fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Angst, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Romance, S.T.A.R.S. (Resident Evil), everyone is good in this, i think at least, if i'm projecting onto chris no im not <3, it's about the yearning..., no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:55:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peggysgf/pseuds/peggysgf
Summary: It was just his luck to like a guy who was probably married with a kid in tow.Chris has... well, he has a crush. A really bad crush. Like potentially career ruining, life changing, crush. On the captain of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team, no less. And it doesn't help that it got worse when their captain comes rushing in late one day, just to explain to everyone that he has a kid. That's kind of where everything falls apart for Chris.
Relationships: Chris Redfield/Albert Wesker
Comments: 37
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chris falls even harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone :) i hope you guys enjoy this fic lmao pls excuse the sorry excuse of a summary, i really couldn't think of a good one. this is also the longest fic i've ever written and the first in this fanbase so i hope it reads fine!!

_“I’d never sing of love if it does not exist.” — The Only Exception, Paramore_

  
  


“Has he ever been this late before?”

“I don’t think he’s _ever_ been late, Jill. Not as far as I can remember anyway,” Barry replies, eyes trained on the disassembled gun resting on his desk.

“Well, should we tell the chief? Because I finished all my reports on that arrest last week…” Jill says, shifting in her seat to rest her head in her hands. Next to her, Chris is typing away on his computer.

Chris glances at her for a second and says, “God, no. Just pretend you have to review them or something.”

It was currently just half past 8 A.M. and the silence infiltrating the S.T.A.R.S. office was practically unheard of. While it did help that Joseph was gallivanting around the station, looking for the something or other he had lost the previous day, instead of making the usual ruckus he happened to create nearly every single day, nobody was much acquainted with the quiet. Not to mention the awkward atmosphere not dissimilar to being in a classroom with no teacher in sight. For some reason, a majority of the team found it easier to think in the middle of combat or a tense recon operation. You didn’t have time to second guess in the middle of life or death. Quietude plus paperwork equaled overthinking.

Just as Brad was about to get up to grab a pen to finish a sketch of a new flight plan he was going to propose, the door opened and noise broke into the room. The noises that emerged were a comfort, of far away laughing and footsteps and papers rustling. The winter morning sunlight quickly streamed in as heads rose to meet the person entering. 

And to say it was a sight the members of Alpha Team never expected to see was an understatement. 

Walking into the office was a small boy with their captain ushering him inside, satchel in one hand and the other on the kid’s back. The child seemed to be about 5 or 6 years old, light blue eyes, wearing a gray parka with a light orange beanie covering most of his short reddish-brownish hair. 

Speaking of sights the members of S.T.A.R.S never expected to see, it was exceptionally surprising to see the captain wearing anything but the official dress. Instead, he donned a much more casual outfit. Well, casual for him. He wore a black dress shirt, windbreaker, and a pair of plain pants. Despite his well put together appearance, everyone in the office could honestly say that the captain had seen better days. In contrast to his normally perfect appearance, which included not even tolerating a hair out of place for himself, he had ditched the sunglasses to showcase the tired look in his eyes and the dark circles underneath.

The door closed behind him, and the blond man sighed before resigning to speak about the very shy and very cute elephant in the room—who just so happened to be hiding casually behind his father’s legs, trying to get away from the perplexing stares of the people in the office.

“I apologize for being late--” was pretty much all he could get out before Jill sprang out of her chair and began to walk forward. Barry and Brad moved their spinny chairs closer to Wesker as Jill spoke, maneuvering to try to get a peek at the child, “Whose kid is that? Is he yours? He’s cute!” among the million other questions and comments she managed to get out before she was interrupted.

“Enough, please,” Wesker began, backing up to set his satchel on the ground near his office door. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder in reassurance before continuing, “As I was saying, I apologize for my being late. My babysitter had to unexpectedly leave town early this morning for a family emergency. I just came by to drop off paperwork and get some files. And yes, Jill,” he continued, “this is my child.”

It wasn’t as if Chris was a dramatic person, not really. But this, well, he really didn’t know how to feel. Seeing that Wesker obviously had a kid which meant that he was most definitely straight, which meant that he probably wasn’t looking for a romantic partner. _Or does he have a wife he’s never mentioned? The captain can be friendly, but still a very private person. But what if--_

_Shut up_ , Chris told himself.

He wishes that he could pass off his long-time crush on his captain as a tiny, trivial, insignificant thing born from a strong sense of admiration for the man in question, but the truth was that simply was not true. And Chris didn’t like to lie to himself. All that had ever done was just get him in trouble, far more than the truth usually did for him. 

“It’s unfortunate that this is how he had to meet all of you,” Wesker says, trying to get his child to detach himself from the man’s legs. The boy steps back, his head down as to not see if everyone was still looking at him, and the captain continues speaking. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must gather certain papers and talk to the chief about this incident. I presume I will see all of you tomorrow morning at the usual time. Once again,” he says, grabbing the tiny hand that’s trying to reach upwards, “I truly do apologize for not being here for the work day, and for my abrupt coming and going.”

The captain moves to his office door, picking up the satchel he set there, and entering the smaller room along with his child. The rest of the people in the office quickly hear the sound of loud wooden drawers opening and closing and the hushed talking in between. 

Brad is the first to move, scooting his chair back to its original spot and grabbing his pen on the way there. 

Jill chuckles and sits on the edge of her desk before commenting, “Honestly, Captain Wesker was really the last person I expected to be a ‘family man’.” She glances at Chris, who seems to be staring blankly at where the captain’s office door had just closed. She pushes him, and he snaps back to the present. 

“ _Oh,_ oh yeah. I agree too. Was kind of shocking,” Chris replies, but his heart isn’t really into commenting on _that_ in front of all his team members. Not with the chance to say something they would consider questionable. Chris has mentioned his ‘crush’ once or twice to Jill, who swore up and down, ‘cross my heart and hope to die’, that she would never tell anyone without his explicit permission.

Barry nodded and smiled. “I just hope he’s not having too much trouble with his kid. I know Moira and Polly can get to be a lot for me and Kathy…” He went back to the gun on his desk, and quietly began to clean it while Jill returned to her seat.

Just as Chris was, yet again, about to spiral down a deep hole of disheartening thoughts; this time as to how his careful, but hypothetical plans of coworkers/friends-to-lovers, had crumbled in front of his own eyes, the S.T.A.R.S. office door opened like God himself was granting the brunet some reprieve from his own mind.

The people walking through the door were much different from God and not necessarily in a good way. It was Joseph accompanied by Forest, with Joseph already speaking about how he couldn’t find… whatever it was he left to find in the first place, so he had gotten the other man to help him.

“I still didn’t find it, sad to say. But have you guys met the new Bravo rookie, Rebecca? I saw her with Marini when I went to go fetch Forest here. She even offered to help me out! I didn’t take her up on her offer though, she seemed pretty busy, what with her stack of different medical books she was carrying.”

“Really?--” Jill started as the captain’s door opened and the red-headed boy ran out. He rushed forward to the office door, whispering, “Can we go? Can we go?” as Wesker shortly joined him. 

“I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow,” he told his teammates, not even giving Forest and Joseph any time to properly process what had just happened before accompanying his child out the door and down the hall.

Presumably to Chief Irons’ office. No one in the RPD could say they envied Wesker right now, seeing as a good majority agreed that Irons was disagreeable at the best of times. On several occasions, Chris had gotten into heated arguments with the chief for conduct out in the field, which, despite being backed up by the entire team, usually resulted in some form of desk work punishment. 

“Uh,” Forest muttered, looking around, “who was that kid?”

——

Nearly a week later, Chris was, as usual, the last to leave the office. Except the captain, of course. 

This was usually due to his own slacking off during the day, preferring to mess around with the other guys in the office by going to the shooting range or playing darts when the only other option was paperwork. Despite how often Jill told him to knock it off and get his work done so that she didn’t have to wait around for him, Chris wasn’t sure he would ever form her good habits.

It wasn’t all that bad though. The way the brunet saw it, there were two pros to this situation.

  1. The quiet. As much as he loves them, most people in the office were naturally distracting with all their discussion. Chris couldn’t focus on such mundane work with words floating overhead from all directions.
  2. The company of Captain Wesker. Granted, he had a separate office and they rarely ever talked during this time beyond how-are-yous and offhand comments and goodbyes. But it was nice nonetheless. The guy just had a calming air about him.



A lot of the staff in the station generally regarded the blond man as someone very apathetic and hostile but Chris liked to fancy that he was one of the few people that could tell what kind of mood the captain was in. Chris didn’t think it was that hard if one just looked, but he supposes no one else had much time to study him. And if he thought this partly because of his crush, well, that was for him and him alone to know.

The young man hurried to wrap-up his work with the hope that he could finish before it got too late. Luckily, it only happened to be a few papers to look over and edit. 

After, he gathered his stuff from his cluttered desk and shut down his computer.

As he made his way to the door leading out into the hallway, he rapped his knuckles on the wall next to the captain’s office and rested against the open door frame.

“Good night, Christopher,” Wesker said without looking up.

“Good night, Captain.” Chris paused. “Actually, I was going to ask you something.”

The other man looked up, putting down his pencil before replying. “Yes?”

“So, uhm,” Chris began, heart nearly beating out of his chest. It wasn’t a scandalous topic by any means, but he couldn’t help but feel nervous. “Is your kid the reason you never want to go out for drinks with everyone after work? Or even the dinners Barry does sometimes?”

_Wow, great start, idiot._

Chris felt like maybe the boy was a topic that no one was really supposed to ask about, since they hadn’t met him properly, and the captain had yet to mention him after. Him and Jill had spoken to each other about it once or twice, but never in public.

“Yes. Why, is that something you want me to do?”

Chris was internally screaming inside.

“No! No, I mean, yes, I-I-- ugh,” Chris facepalmed. “That came out wrong. I’m not saying we don’t want you there or anything, but I… I was just wondering. I guess it makes sense, since you have to take care of your kid and all.”

Absolute stark silence. Since he was already digging, Chris decided he might as well tunnel his grave even deeper.

“Y’know,” he began, “if you ever need a babysitter, I’m sure I could get my sister to do it. She’s in college but she only has a couple of classes this year. Plus she gets all the school breaks and stuff.”

Much to amazement of Chris, Wesker smiled slightly.

“That’s funny. Barry offered me a babysitter too. I think I’m fine with mine, but I’ll be sure to keep your sister in mind.”

Thankfully, the brunet felt a lot better after hearing that. He smiled back.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but what’s your kid’s name? You forgot to tell us in the rush to get in and out, I think.”

“I didn’t forget. I just didn’t see what purpose it would serve, seeing as I never intended any of you to meet him.”

Chris heart drops. He _knows_ he’s being ridiculous, because it makes perfect sense to want to keep someone’s personal life separate from work life. Especially when it comes to someone as reserved as Wesker. However, he just feels ever so slightly disappointed that they were never even supposed to know a huge part of who the captain is. Again, he guesses he can consider that his fault for assuming that he needs to know everything about everyone, as all his childhood teachers would tell him. He was just a very curious kid, he likes to think.

“Oh.”

“But his name is Jake. Since you so kindly asked.” 

They stare at each other for a minute, before Chris pushes off the doorframe, saying, “Jake? Okay. Thanks for telling me.”

Chris moves toward the S.T.A.R.S office door and calls out a ‘good night’ with a wave before exiting.

“Good night to you too,” Wesker says to no one at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always any kudos or comments are very much appreciated!! i'll try to reply to any comments. i also have the whole fic written, i just need to edit it so hopefully i'll have fast updates (as in every couple days)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of good mistakes.

Jill laughs and takes another sip of her beer. “You know, I’m actually surprised he hasn’t asked you about it. I know you try, but you are  _ so  _ not subtle about your big,  _ gay _ ,” she stretches the fingers on her other hand out, “infatuation with him.”

“I know! I know, okay.”

“You need to ask him out so you can finally get some closure or something.”

Chris cringes. “He’s  _ our  _ boss, Jill. Last I checked, I’m pretty sure he could fire me just for asking. And like… if he says no, that’s gonna suffocate whatever dynamic the team has.”

It was just his luck to like a guy who was probably married with a kid in tow.

He could swear he’s run the ‘asking out’ scenario in his head at least 50 times, weighing every single possible pro and every single possible con. Different environments, different tone of voice or choice of words, different day-to-day occurrences, different outcomes. It’s like if he so much as breathes differently one time, then that will trickle down and impact the answer and effectively change the rest of his life forever. No big deal, right?

Jill’s aware that whatever she says to reassure the man isn’t going to be something he wants to hear. Chris is just one of those people who refuses to let other people do things for him. It’s not a bad trait by any means, but it can be annoying when they won’t pull the damn trigger on whatever is on their mind.

Jill rearranges herself on the couch they’re sharing before reaching over and poking Chris in the shoulder.

“Come on. You don’t-- you don’t know that, trust me. Just… eventually you’ll get an opportunity, and you’ll know you’ve gotta do something.” She smiles and pauses. “Help me make food.”

Chris pushes himself off the seat and follows her into his kitchen.

He seriously doubts that.

——

He was wrong. Embarrassingly wrong.

Really, it had started out perfectly fine. 

The entirety of Alpha Team were slated, last minute Chris might add, to practice disarming techniques. Why Chief Irons sprung this on them an hour before the work day was supposed to end was a mystery. Combined with the fact that they had done this previously, just the other day, as standard procedure of their training schedule.

As a result, the members were slightly off their game, frustrated that there was even a possibility of having to stay late. Nine times out of ten, yes, the team would say that they enjoyed their job, and that they were valued at the workplace, but the times when they were just sitting in an office all day got on to the nerves of some. Especially newbies, which they had all been at one time, who expected every day to be like a high budget, blockbuster, action movie. 

They were making their way down to the shooting range in relative silence, with the exception of Barry chuckling at a joke Joseph said.

As soon as they entered, Wesker flipped the lights on and turned to face the five other people.

“As I discussed briefly a few minutes ago, the chief believes we need to run disarming methods again. You will be paired up and we’ll run through certain exercises, playing as either the attacker or victim. I’ll allow you to decide who you would like to do this with.”

Chris takes a step toward Jill as she backs up and wraps her arm around Joseph. She shakes her head, adjusting the straps on her holster. The woman grins and winks at him before turning to Joseph to officially announce to him that she’ll be his partner, something Chris is sure will make him giddy. 

Chris puts on a blank face despite sighing inside. Ever since she said that he’d get the right ‘opportunity’ to talk to the captain about his… worries, he guesses, though it doesn’t seem to be the right word for it. Crush is obvious but feels so childish. Infatuation feels fleeting. Lust feels dirty. But ever since that conversation nearly a month ago, she’d been his own personal wingman, deliberately doing what she’s doing now, which is pushing him in the blond man’s direction.

He can already see Brad asking Barry to partner up, seeing as the man is probably the only one that won’t make fun when Brad falls on his ass at the first chance. Brad is much better at staying in the back, planning instead of fighting.

“Chris.”

Right.

“I suppose I’m the only one you have left. Again,” Wesker says as he glances at Jill, who’s currently trying to keep a straight face—and failing—as Joseph redoes his bandana over his messy hair.

Chris is really not sure how to take that comment. Like really, such a weird choice of words.

Wesker obviously knows Jill has been doing this on purpose.  _ Hopefully _ , Chris thinks,  _ he doesn’t know why.  _

“Yeah,” the brunet manages to chuckle, hand moving to rub the back of his neck awkwardly, “I guess.” 

While Wesker explains the first defensive move they’ll be performing, Chris can’t help but not listen. He knows he should so he’s not caught off guard, but he’s trying to devote two trains of thought to one: how to devise a plan to get through this without bursting in flames, and two: how the captain is gonna direct his full attention and  _ hands  _ on him in just a few seconds. In front of everyone. Yet again. Every time they do stuff like  _ this _ , with physical contact, it being inherently just between them, he gets all flush in the face and jittery and the brunet feels like there is no possible way the other members don’t see it.

“You’ll be the victim.”

Chris can handle that. At least he thinks so.

So he plays the ‘victim’, grabbing the ‘attacker’s’ fake knife from his hands with ease. Which normally wouldn’t happen but the first few exercises are always the easiest, and for some reason, he believes that Wesker is intentionally doing a poor job.

They do this for the next half hour or so, swiping and dodging and even pushing each other in occurrence with regulations about training sessions. Everyone is doing fairly well, Jill and Joseph trying really, really hard to take it seriously, and Brad nailing every single attempt surprisingly. Even Chris is doing okay, considering.

“Alright. The last technique,” Wesker states, “will involve one person holding one of the fake guns, and the other tackling them. We’ll do this until both people succeed at their respective roles. You may decide what exactly that is.” He turns to Chris, and even though the brunet can’t see his eyes, he knows he’s staring. 

He picks up one of the fake guns from the floor and tosses it to Chris, who catches it with a blank face. 

They both stare at each other while the others start.

_ Why is he staring? My God, just fucking do something.  _

This is undoubtedly where it all went wrong. Had Chris stopped thinking about Wesker and his stupid blue eyes he hasn’t seen in weeks and his stupid unplaceable accent that definitely did something really bad to Chris and his stupid precise actions, so very calculated that he couldn’t possibly do something without knowing exactly how it would be perceived, he could’ve prevented this.

He doesn’t even realize what’s going on before he gets the air knocked out of him by a heavy, all encompassing weight on his chest. The prop gun clatters to the floor and he looks up to see his captain’s face literal inches above his own, forearm on Chris’s, acting like he’s actually attempting to disarm in a real situation instead of his half hearted endeavors from earlier. 

_ Oh my fucking God _ , he thinks. 

“Oh my fucking God,” he says, voice so quiet that only the man on top of him could hear.

Just as Wesker was about to get off of him, Chris panics and does the only thing his mind can think of. He speaks.

“Please go out with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW that ending. sorry that this chapter is a little short and sorry for the cliffhanger :''-) thanks to everyone that read/commented/kudo'd the first chapter. i hope you all enjoyed and as always any feedback/support is greatly appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions, confessions, confessions... and some revelations, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> featuring my addiction to using italics

Chris feels like he has to have caught some extremely high fever that’s causing him to hallucinate or have some bizarre dreams. That can be the only logical solution for what the hell just happened.

He can’t exactly say how the rest of the disarming training went, because somehow, his brain just blacked out whatever happened between the moment he was idiotic enough to tell his captain, the person who made everyone else in the station—besides a select few—intimidated enough to do what he asked without question, that he wanted to go out with him. Like on a date. Like he  _ liked  _ him or something. Which he did, but was definitely going to deny that with everything in him if he sensed the slightest ‘you’re-losing-your-job’ impression from the conversation that was sure to occur. 

So he stands there, still in the shooting range, and finally takes in his surroundings. He sees everyone putting up their equipment for inspection, smiling and talking. He watches them for he doesn’t know how long before they filter out of the room, Jill leaving in last place so she can turn around and wave at Chris like she knows what he said to Wesker. 

_ Lord,  _ Chris thinks, _ if they all heard me say that, I’m quitting, moving off the grid, and adopting a fake identity. _

Unsurprisingly, the blond man is still in the room, back to him, arranging Alpha Team’s gear in the correct spots.

“Uhm,” Chris starts, “did I, uh, do okay?” He doesn’t really know what to say. What do you even say after that?

He’s never even been in this situation. Of pining for someone.  _ Especially  _ a man.  _ Especially a man who has a fucking kid! _ Chris has… well, has always been the very picture of heterosexuality to the public eye. He had tons of girlfriends in high school, but they were always more involved in the relationship than he was. They wanted something that he couldn’t give them. And because of that—because of the fact he didn’t really like any of them, and because of the fact that he wasn’t upset when they broke up with him, and because of the lingering glances he would take as his guy friends laughed at a joke Chris told—he was sure that there was a good possibility that the splitting image of a stereotypical straight man wasn’t him. He wishes that he didn’t spend years ruminating on this, only to have a revelation about it in a very inconvenient time in his life. It would have been easier to discover this during football practices or math tests instead of police work.

“You did fine.” 

_ Oh, good. _

“Though… care to explain what you said to me during that last part there?”

_ No. No, no, no, no. I can’t do that. Can I continue my life crisis first please? _

“Uhh,” Chris says, trying to stall.

Wesker turns around, evidently done with the work there and focuses his gaze on Chris.

“You said that you wanted to ‘go out’ with me. I presume as in a date. Did you forget or were you hoping I didn’t hear you?”

_ Ooookay. So denial is a no-go. _

Chris shifts from side to side, trying to look anywhere but the other man’s face. He swears, he can already feel his entire face burning up. He would really like to not spill his guts out right now, but nothing ever goes Chris’s way.

So instead of answering the question like a normal person would, with a simple answer and acknowledgement that he messed up, he begins what he imagines will be a pathetic rant that will haunt him until the end of time.

“Well, I was kinda really hoping you didn’t hear what I said, or--or at least heard wrong or something so that I could play it off with some sort of dignity left and not have to make… whatever it is I feel  _ actually real _ ,” he says, pacing in short strides, gesticulating, “I mean—I guess I’ve said it out loud before, but only--only to myself or Jill,—but never to you, so now I have to explain the most embarrassing fucking experience of my adult life—and that includes getting discharged from the Air Force—to  _ you _ , the person who I have a-- God, have a silly little crush on, that makes me feel like I’m someone trying to sleep their way up the police department, which  _ is not the truth at all, I swear, _ I just-- I don’t know. I like you and I shouldn’t because I’m me and you’re you and I’m… reckless and you’re not and you have a kid! And you’re my boss! And I don’t doubt you’re straight! And I don’t--I mean, I feel like I don’t even know anything about you or kids or how dating someone I actually like works.”

Chris rubs his hands over his face. The weight of everything he said still hangs on his shoulders like a mountain of bricks.  _ So much for an adequate confession _ , he thinks. At this point, he just wants this over with.

“Please fire me now,” he mutters, forcing his hands down at his side, eyes burning. If he’s gonna be fired, he figures he’ll make the last seconds of this job something relatively bearable.

Chris is startled when Wesker laughs.  _ Actually  _ laughs. He can’t name a single time, in the months he’s been in S.T.A.R.S., that someone has actually made the captain laugh. And it certainly is not the most welcoming thing to hear in this situation, right after Chris just bared his heart and soul in the middle of a shooting range to the person he least expected to.

“How is my breakdown funny to you?” Chris huffs out, now visibly upset instead of humiliated. 

“Chris, you’re smart, but you can be so very thickheaded.” The other man tilts his head before continuing, more seriously, “Do you honestly think I haven’t caught on to you staying a little later or looking at me just a bit too long? Or your not-so-discreet whispered conversations with Jill? Not to mention how flustered you get anytime we have to do work together.”

Chris kind of expected that, honestly. Despite how hard he thought and agonized over every single interaction between them, he guesses that that was actually why he was so obvious about it, the fatal flaw in his plan, that he was so caught up in his thoughts that he ran right into the risk of telling without  _ telling _ . He continuously surprises himself with his own stupidity.

Chris says nothing, though, just stands there in the perpetual silence.

And thankfully, Wesker breaks the tension with a simple, “I’m not heterosexual. For your information. So you can take that worry off yourself.” 

He can’t stop his heart from skipping a beat at that information. Sure, it’s not a guarantee of anything but… and said so casually too, as if something so vital to who a person is can be said in a simple, elegant way. Yet the captain manages it.

“You,” Chris begins, “you really  _ do not _ have to tell me that. I feel like just because I said something, I pressured you into saying that, you don’t have to come out to me, or whatever. I mean, it’s not exactly accepted with open arms, especially in a police station, so I can imagine that, uh…” He doesn’t even know where he’s going with this, trying to somehow not offend but also not completely dismiss that the person he likes may like him back, if he’s out here saying shit like this to Chris.

_ Maybe it’s just pity,  _ he subconsciously thinks.  _ Or something to say ‘You’re not alone but I also don’t like you’. _

“I don’t ever say anything I don’t mean, Chris. I figured by now you would understand that.”

_ Back to Stern Police Team Captain. _

“Ah.” Chris touches the back of his neck. “Well. It’s none of my business, obviously, and if you told me to shut up, I would understand, but what about your kid? I assume that you have a girlfriend, or a wife, or something. Do you… have a girlfriend? Or a wife?” 

_ It’s risky, but what’s the worst that could happen? _

The blond man smirks slightly. “It’s charming how much you care.” 

Chris freezes. 

“My kid is my own, if that’s what you’re hinting at, and--”

Chris cuts him off, hands raised in an attempt to soften what was going to follow that sentence, “Oh my God, no, that’s not--that’s not what I wanted you to get from that at all, I just meant--, God, why can I never articulate myself.” He glances at the ground, like how a child would try to hide.

“I’m not offended. I know what you meant.” He tightens his lips. “I used to have a… significant other, if that’s what you could call her.”

_ Her. And used to. As in divorced. Or… let’s not delve into that. _

Despite the reassurance that Wesker knew what he was trying to say, it didn’t sit well that the younger man accidentally stumbled on what appeared to be a sensitive topic. 

He opened his mouth to speak, to try to remedy whatever wound had been opened, when Wesker closed the short distance between them and lowered his voice to practically a whisper. 

“Chris, stop thinking so much.” 

Like all the most recent things that changed the direction Chris’s life was taking, it was sudden, slightly confusing, and virtually unobtainable right up until to the moment it wasn’t.

His captain merely leans down, gloved hand moving to his jaw, and kisses him. Softly. On the lips. Not even for more than a second—just something to shut him up. But not without feeling.

His lips aren’t chapped like his own; a bad habit of his to bite, but surely that could be fixed if he was going to be kissing someone again and again. Instead, the blond man’s lips are smooth and cold, and Chris is thankful he’s never kissed a man before because he knows it wouldn’t have been even half as enjoyable or remarkable as this.

_ Oh my God, _ Chris thinks, despite the whole purpose being  _ not _ to think, not to object, or worry about what’ll happen next. He’s never been very good at that.

The kiss breaks, along with the warmth of the hand that had rested upon his jaw, before the younger man has time to chase after it. They look at each other, and Chris wets his lips. Flush in the face, contrasted with Wesker’s still cool demeanor. 

“Captain, I, uh--”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“No, no, you didn’t,--”

“I’d like to go out on a date with you. If you still want that.”

Chris can’t stop himself from uttering a breathless, astonished, “What the fuck?”

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

“No! No, I just--I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t expecting me to say what I said, and for you to feel enough of the same way to do that, and offer a date,” he explains.

“Well, I guess you never know,” Wesker smirks, touching the brunet’s shoulder. He steps around, heading toward the door before turning around and speaking. 

“A date it is then. See you tomorrow, Chris.” 

He’s out the door before Chris can formulate something witty to say or even so much as a reply back. 

_ A date. Jill is going to freak. _

He smiles to himself, content in the feeling of having a huge, life changing secret no one else knows about, as he walks to gather his stuff from the empty office, hoping that his apartment won’t seem so quiet anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH THE KISS... THE CONFESSION... i'm actually pretty proud of this chapter, especially looking back on it and considering how it felt like forever to write, so i hope everyone liked it!  
> and thank you for reading! any comments, kudos, etc are greatly appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date. Plus a cameo or two.

Given the salary for S.T.A.R.S. members, and the fact that Wesker has been living in this city far longer than Chris has, with a child no less, he isn’t really sure why he’s surprised at how  _ nice _ Wesker’s house is. 

Unlike his apartment, the first thing he can notice is that it’s neat. Minimalistic. Open spaces that hold the sunlight pouring in from the windows high up on the walls.  _ Sleek _ is probably the right word. Sleek, if one excused the bright multicolored puzzle piece rug covering the hardwood floors of what Chris imagines is the living room, judging from the couch and glass table.

He guesses that’s Jake’s.

Chris smiles, “Your house is so nice!” 

From behind him, Wesker breathes a small thank you, quickly catching up to where Chris is standing, obviously nosing around, though not unpleasantly. 

Another thing he notices is that the walls and bookshelves are bare of personal items, besides two or three photos occupying space in frames. One is a picture of Jake, hair messy, in pajamas, holding a plush toy with the tag still on it. Chris assumes he’s showing it off to whoever’s behind the camera.

Another one is a picture of a tall, long haired blonde woman, dressed in a white lab coat and a dark button up, arm around a younger version of what is unmistakably Wesker, sunglasses and all. They look eerily similar. Both slightly grinning, same facial features, and from what Chris recalls from a couple weeks ago, the same eye color: pale blue.

“Is that your…?”  _ Wife. Girlfriend.  _ But he doesn’t need to finish the sentence for the other man to catch his meaning.

“No,” Wesker laughed. “That’s actually my sister. This,” he waves at the photo, “was taken when we worked together.”

“Oh,” Chris replies. “What did you do? For work?”

“We worked as biotechnology specialists for several different companies. Graduated with degrees from one of the top universities in Europe before we could even legally drink.”

“Oh, wow.” He knew his captain was well-read and remarkably clever, but not nearly this intelligent. As for Chris, he didn’t go to college. It wasn’t as if he was dumb, or unmotivated, or simply didn’t want to go—which he personally saw nothing wrong with; college wasn’t for everyone—it just happened that it wasn’t an option at the time. It was the Air Force or nothing. And anyhow, he wouldn’t even know what to study.

“Yes. Our… father, if you could even call him that, was very demanding. If we weren’t working, we were wasting his time.”

Chris could hear the unhappiness in his tone. He wants to reach out, to try to comfort the older man in some way, but he’s never been confronted with a situation like this, and quite frankly, doesn’t know how to help. He never had abusive or distant parents, only dead ones.

Before he gets the chance to do anything, Wesker continues speaking. “I chose to go into the Army, while she chose to continue her research. I still see her every few months. Jake happens to be a big fan of her,” he smiles, which sets Chris at ease.

“I don’t mind if Jake is here, y’know. That way you don’t have to bother with a babysitter. That is, of course, if you still like me well enough after tonight to want to go on another date,” Chris chuckles.

They glance at each other before the blond man replies with, “Alright. Now, shall we?”, his arm extending to lead Chris to the dining table.

——

“Captain?”

“Really, it would be rather inappropriate if you called me that outside of work.”

“Oh. Right,” Chris replies, setting down his fork. “What do you want me to call you then?”

“By my name.” He glances upwards. “I see the way you can’t take your eyes off the fatuous name plate taking up precious space on my desk. You should already know it’s Albert.”

“Alright then. Albert. Thank you for dinner, you’ve been a lovely host,” Chris says in a particularly amiable way, rubbing his hand over his mouth to cover his own stupid, giddy smile.

“Lovely? Really. I would venture to say the entire police department thinks otherwise,” Wesker smiles back in humor.

“Yeah, well… I don’t really care what they think. Half of them only know  _ of _ you by reputation. And the other half either have their own thoughts based on some small, insignificant comment you told them, or based on how S.T.A.R.S. does on missions or in training, or… maybe if they’re smart, they just find themselves too busy to care. I think that you are an exceedingly different person outside of that.” That’s… definitely a moment of truth, which Chris so often plays as something casual out of a sort of self preservation.

“How so?” Well, now the other man is curious.

“They don’t know what your house looks like. The pictures and the foam rug you have on the floor. They don’t hear your little pep talks to everyone before we go and risk our lives on missions. They don’t know how you act outside of work. How nice you can be. They don’t know how you take your coffee, which I have seen you make far too many times. They don’t know you have a kid. They don’t know that you don’t go out after work because you want to come home to that kid. They don’t know that kid’s name or that he looks like you a lot more than you might think. I know you want to be unknowable and secretive and shit, but you can share stuff too. If you want. You know how many times  _ I’ve _ been the one to remind Barry about something he himself told me about his children? Or how to get Brad to stop falling over himself in fear without making him freak out? And not to forget Jill. Sometimes I think I know her better than she knows herself, and vice versa.” He pauses. “S.T.A.R.S is like a family.” 

All Chris can think is, _ Jesus Christ, this is cringey. Can you get any more dramatic? _

“For all your objections,” Wesker says, looking straight at the brunet, “you can articulate yourself when you want. I suppose I never really thought about that.”

“Oh, good,” Chris lets out a breath he was holding. “I thought I was just talking nonsense,” he laughs lightly.

“Never.” A beat. “How about you talk about how you are so  _ desperately _ in love with me, if I’m to take all that watching me as proof,” he beams.

It’s a joke, Chris  _ knows  _ it’s a joke, they’re just flirting, but his heart skips another fucking beat from how unreal it feels. He decides to play along.

“Now you’re just making fun of me. You know,  _ you  _ kissed me. Unless you somehow imagined I did that way before you decided that enough was enough, one way or another, this man was gonna shut up.”

“Oh, sure, Chris, just like--”

The doorbell rings, leaving him forever wondering how that sentence was going to end.

Wesker pushes away from the dining table to walk to the door, Chris following shortly after. 

“I’m willing to bet this is the babysitter. I didn’t tell her a time to be back, so my apologies.” He reaches for the knob, turns it, and lets the guests in.

Jake hurries in, automatically latching on to his father’s legs, practically jumping up and down with excitement. The dark haired woman trailing behind him—presumably the babysitter aforementioned—is clad in a deep red blouse coupled with black dress pants and heeled boots. 

“Ada, hello,” Wesker says, looking from his kid back to her. “How was Jake?” 

“Oh, you know,” she responds, closing the door behind her, “just the best behaved kid I’ve seen.” She winks at the boy, who in turn giggles and lets go of the man’s pant leg.

“We saw some dogs today, Dad.”

“Dogs?”

“We went to the park,” Ada explains, tucking her short hair behind her ear in order to see clearly. “Jake seems to think that I should get one.”

“So he can steal it from you, maybe,” Wesker replies, helping his child remove his jacket.

It’s then that the woman notices Chris standing in the back, quietly, just watching them converse.

“And is this your date?” She smirks, hand moving to gesture toward him.

Wesker and Jake both look to Chris and he can mentally see them remember that he’s here. 

“Oh, yes. Ada, this is Chris, Chris, this is Ada,” he explains, putting Jake’s coat onto one of the racks near the door.

Ada and Chris shake hands, her turning back after to speak. “Well, I’ll be having to go now. My boyfriend is very patiently waiting in the car.” She crouches down to give Jake a hug, his hands already up in anticipation.

“Bye, Ada,” his soft voice utters.

She smiles, “See you later, Jake.”

She wishes a goodbye and good night to both the men, commenting that it was a pleasure to meet Chris before exiting the house into the cool night air.

“I, uh,” Chris begins awkwardly, “I should probably go, huh. So Jake can spend some time with you.” Jake looks up at the sound of his name and Chris knows that he remembers him from the office.

“If you would like to.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” he laughs.

“I’ll let you leave for another date.” Wesker smirks back at Chris. Jake is already off somewhere in the house, probably preoccupied with whatever toy he left out that morning.

“I don’t know why you would ever want to do that,” Chris jests, “but sure.”

“I’m not sure why I want to do that either. You were such terrible company.” But the other man smiles, so the brunet knows he’s joking. 

Chris makes his way to the door, letting Wesker see him off after they said their goodbyes. He’s halfway to his car before he suddenly, inexplicably turns around and fast walks back to where the other man is standing and waiting. 

“Did you forget something?” is all that’s said before Chris’s hands reach up to Wesker’s face, taking a hold of it as he smashes his lips onto his captain’s.

This time, it’s not brief. This time, they both have time to kiss back, to melt into it. This time, Chris is brave enough to have been the one to act on it. 

_ Turns out,  _ he thinks,  _ he’s a better kisser than I thought. _

Wesker’s hand gains purchase on Chris’s arm, and the other travels to parallel the other man’s hand on his own face. They break for breath after what seemed to be minutes of just back and forth between them. To Chris’s delight, Wesker’s face is flush, lips red,  _ genuinely surprised _ . 

Chris’s chest heaves.

“You surprise me more and more,” the blond exhales.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Albert,” he winks, turning on his heel and entering his car and leaving Wesker staring. It seems to be just an effect they always have on each other.

As he drives home, he licks his lips and thinks: _ If he’s like this, if  _ it’s _ like  _ this _ , then I don’t even know what I was worried about. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when chris said "Jesus Christ, this is cringey. Can you get any more dramatic?".... me reading my own writing
> 
> and hi everyone! if i'm honest i lowkey forgot i had them kiss again in this chapter lmaooo
> 
> also if you're curious, here's what jake's rug thing looks like:  
> https://www.amazon.com/Floor-Alphabet-Number-Puzzle-96-Piece/dp/B00E4H17PC (you may need to copy and paste this idk ao3 is confusing lol)
> 
> and as usual ty for reading and for your wonderful comments! i love any feedback/support and everyone has been nothing but nice :'')


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for non-graphic eye related trauma (if it bothers you, i would recommend skipping from "When I was adopted..." to "...told them to do it".) enjoy! :)

“Leaving your boyfriend behind today?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Jill! Can I have one day where you don’t bother me about him?” Chris glances down at the paperwork in his hands before side-eyeing her.

“The more times you say that, the more it just makes me wanna annoy you about it.  _ And _ he is most definitely your boyfriend. I don’t know why you kid yourself.”

“Go ahead, keep that up. I’m gonna report you for workplace harassment.”

“Unfortunately for you, Chris,” the woman wraps her arm around his shoulder, “that will never happen. Don’t you know they throw all of those files away the second you turn around?”

To say it had been a long day was an understatement, in Chris’s opinion. He had a lengthy list of mishaps today, consisting, but not limited to: losing the hard drive containing reports on past cases for several anxiety-filled hours, spilling coffee all over the keyboard of his computer, having to fix said keyboard with the help of Brad, who was just thankful that he himself didn’t spill it, and then, as if that wasn’t mortifying enough, he had to painstakingly explain to Jill  _ why  _ exactly he was trying to cover a neck-full of hickies with a jacket.

Where he got those hickies, well… Jill is smart enough to fill in the blanks. She’s the only one in the office that knows for certain, and she’s invested in making sure it stays that way until one of the two men say something about it officially. Chris is actually… eager, he guesses, for that day to come. Jill’s got a whole speech prepared for anyone that doesn’t agree, promising that if he gets any shit, it’ll be the last time that person agrees or disagrees with anything for a long time.

Thinking of it now, Jill can be very scary.

So she’s the only one who has any idea, unless she isn’t teasing Chris when she says that the others suspect  _ something  _ is up, given the everyday back and forth between him and Wesker. Frankly, he hasn’t been the most low-key about it. He doesn’t parade it around, or anything, but it’s the little things.

Like making a cup of coffee for him alongside his own. Or taking a smoking break at the same time as each other. Or Jill’s nudges and winks when they happen to be in the same room together, especially the shooting range. She told him later that she had already calculated that there was a high chance of it happening the day they all set foot in that room—86% to be exact, based on some formula she’s concocted in her mind. Or it could be the fact that Chris uses any and every excuse to waltz right into Wesker’s office, something that wouldn’t fly with anyone but Chris—and trust that they’ve tried. 

They walk down the stairs, Jill talking animatedly about how she had started to learn to play basketball with Rebecca. The younger woman turned out to be quite good at it, much to the surprise of a majority of the men in S.T.A.R.S.. She reminded Chris of Claire.

They exit through the front doors, waving at the police officers who would be working the night shift, before heading to Chris’s car to have their weekly hang out at Jill’s place.

——

Most weekends, and a majority of the week, Chris happens to find himself at Wesker’s house at some point in the day. Whether that’s because he forgot something—which if you ask anyone but Chris, is a sure sign that yeah, you might just be in a real relationship—, or he’s running an errand, or he’s tempted with the promise of dinner, despite saying repeatedly that he needs to use the stuff he bought for himself so he doesn’t go bankrupt before the age of 30. 

But really, it’s not like he has much else to do anyways. Claire is at college and working now, so it’s hard for her to talk, what with studying and the part time job she picked up. Occasionally, he breaks under the pressure of his teammates and goes out with everyone after work for drinks, but even then, sometimes he really wishes that he was at his boss-slash-unlabeled-boyfriend’s house, helping Jake clean up his toys or falling asleep on Wesker’s shoulder.

Speaking of that, it’s actually what he’s doing now. Or trying not to do. Chris is using a good majority of his brain power trying not to fall asleep watching Wesker’s fingers turn the pages of some biology book he’s reading. It doesn’t help that it’s basically a foreign language to him, all scientific terms in plain black and white ink. Honestly, it couldn’t kill these people to add pictures or charts or something. And it most certainly doesn’t help to hear the soothing sounds of Jake’s pencils and crayons tracing lines across a paper on the coffee table, and the small humming sound coming from his headphones attached to a Walkman.

He’s near sleep when the other man rests his head against his, closing the book.

Chris sighs. “Why did you stop just as it was getting interesting?” He jokes.

“I wanted to talk instead,” Wesker replied quietly, eyes focused on Jake scribbling away.

_ Oh no. _

“Uh, about what?” 

“Nothing bad, Chris. You worry too much,” he smiles. “I was just wondering how you never caught on to my flirting.”

“What?” Chris moves his head up to look at the blond man who returns the glance.

“Did you honestly not see all the times I would mess with you?”

“Um, no? What, when?”

“Just one example out of many, ask yourself why I always asked  _ you  _ specifically to help me organize files, or do reports, or clean the weapons.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

Chris thinks for a minute and then says, “Okay, so when did that start? When did you become so sentimental in your fondness for me that you let yourself get a crush?”

Wesker pauses. “You’re going to think it alarming, and maybe a little creepy that I remember this at all,” he sighs, “but I think it was when we had that call a few months back. A drug bust, nothing too serious or even remotely remarkable by our standards. The only thing that stood out was that the person selling them had their spouse with them in the passenger seat. I’m assuming that she had no idea of the true intentions of what that meeting was. Once we arrested them and sent them on their way, I recall that you broke from the rest of the group and stopped by where that girl was, just a couple feet away.” He breathes in deep. “You’re better than me. I wouldn’t have said anything but you offered to drive her home. I expect that’s when. I can’t explain it beyond the fact that you were kind enough to do that. It reminded me of the kind of person Jake’s mother was.”

_ Was.  _

But if he’s willing to say that, offhandedly, then Chris won’t kill the mood.

“Oh my God, are you kidding? I barely even remember that. I do know she said no though, she’d already called a taxi, so I felt really stupid,” he laughs. 

The other man moves to plant a kiss on Chris’s head, murmuring, “What about you?”

He grins. “I think it was always there. Back when I got hired for S.T.A.R.S., it made me super nervous to know that I had been handpicked for something. I mean, really, Barry couldn’t shut up about how elite this team was, how serious they were taken, you get the gist. So when I met you, this person who seemed to just command respect without even doing anything, and realized that  _ you  _ were the guy who picked through everything written about my time in the Air Force, beginning to end, it was kind of a shock. You weren’t cruel but you also weren’t soft or uncommitted. I was grateful that you gave me a chance, if you didn’t know that by now.”

They pause. He can hear the breathing coming from Wesker and the marking of colors on a page.

“I think that I love you.”

Chris stills instantly. It was so quiet he thinks he can’t have heard right.

He feels like he’s having an anxiety attack, or a heart attack, or  _ something. _ He’s starting to realize maybe this is just a theme in his life now.

Before he can even comprehend that, those words, the person who said them,  _ why _ he said them, Jake sheds his headphones and grabs his drawing, abandoning his workspace in favor of running over to Chris.

“Chris! Chris, look!” The boy is practically jumping up and down, trying to get his attention. Wesker lifts his head and wraps an arm around Chris, leaning over to look at his son’s paper.

Chris steadies his focus and smiles at Jake, touching the artwork. It’s good, Chris thinks. It’s more than good. It’s a colorful picture of himself; at least that’s what he presumes by the brown hair. He’s drawn dressed in his S.T.A.R.S. gear, walking a dog in a field of flowers, sun smiling in the corner in the typical way kids draw it.

“Aw, Jake, you drew this for me?” 

“Yes! See, you have a dog here, and…,” the redhead says, continuing to point and detail the art. 

“Thank you very much. I love it, I really do, it’s so pretty,” Chris says, once Jake’s tired himself out. He looks up at him. “Can I keep it? I wanna hang it up so everyone at work can see it.” 

“Yes, that’s why I made it for you,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Chris holds the paper in his hands, and Jake makes a face in Wesker’s direction that the brunet can’t exactly see, due to how awestruck he is that this kid, Wesker’s kid, made this for him. Like he’s a part of his family too. Jake walks away and gets another paper from his stack, sitting down to carefully look over his colors for the right one.

“You know,” the blond man whispers warmly, gripping Chris’s arm, “His mom was an artist. I think he might be one too, when he’s older. He has a real talent for it.”

Chris nods. He turns away from the drawing, craning his head to rest again on Wesker’s shoulder.

It’s quiet.

“I love you too.”

——

Chris can’t sleep. Chalk it up to stress or work or pain from running around chasing Jake all day at the park. Maybe because he’s laying on his back. In his many attempts to find a way to fall asleep, he started counting the ceiling tiles, which quite obviously failed.

He knows the man beside him, who’s curled up in a blanket facing the wall, isn’t asleep himself. The brunet had come to learn that rarely does Wesker get more than a couple hours of sleep—something Chris is puzzled by and a little jealous of. 

He looks over to him. “Al?” he whispers. Funnily enough, Wesker is fine with the nickname, but probably only because it’s coming from him. He can’t imagine how he might react if Jill or Brad or Joseph called him that. He seriously doubts half of the team even pays attention to stuff like that, in spite of how smart they all are.

Wesker hums in response, not moving.

“I… Y’know, and it’s not anything I’m in a dire need of knowing but I’ve always wondered: why do you wear your sunglasses indoors? Or at night?” He pauses, turning on his side. “Everyone in the office has a million little theories.”

That gets the older man to shift in his side of the bed, head coming from the other side to look at Chris, hair messy and eyes half lidded.

“Are you bothered by it?” 

“No. Not at all. I mean--I don’t care about it. I’m just curious,” Chris quickly explains.

They stop, looking each other in the eye.

“When I was adopted,” Wesker breathes out, “the…  _ caretakers _ responsible for me decided that they required data on how long they could force me to stare into their flashlights without break. Interesting form of punishment, I guess.” His tone is like diluted venom, like the feeling of a horrendous incident you could do nothing but accept and move on from.

“What the…” Chris lays a hand on the blond man’s arm. “What about your father? I got the impression that he wasn’t a pleasant man but surely he would’ve tried to stop this, right?”

“He was the one who told them to do it.”

_ My God.  _

“So. You can imagine that it hurts to look at lights without the glasses for very long. I can see fine with them, if that’s what you were concerned about.”

“Does Jake know?” Chris whispers.

“More or less. I don’t think he could properly understand the reasoning.”

Chris looks down, then moves closer to Wesker, dropping his head near his.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he murmurs. “Nobody, especially you, should’ve gone through  _ that.  _ I… I won’t tell anyone, swear. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

He feels guilty, even if he wasn’t there and couldn’t have done anything about it. He feels guilty to have reminded the other man of it, and he  _ knows _ , he knows Wesker is fine now, and has learned to live with it, but goddamn. It never fails to astound him just how monstrous people can be.

“I don’t mind. What’s done is done.”

A cold arm comes to wrap around the brunet’s head, smoothing the unruly hair there, pulling him into an embrace he imagines is meant to soothe him to sleep. 

“I apologize,” the other man says, and chuckles lightly, “I’m sure you weren’t expecting that heavy of a response. Especially since I know you can’t sleep.”

Chris gets as close as possible. Partly for warmth, partly so Wesker can hear what’s next.

“How could it ever be your fault? I asked. You told me. I want you to know I see you too.”

Chris closes his eyes, and although he doesn’t sleep for a couple more hours, lost in thought about this new, profound revelation about the man he loves,  _ really loves, _ it’s okay. Sometimes this is just what it means to be alive.

——

It’s a nice ring. Gold and shiny—almost blinding, honestly. It just so happens that he’s taken up playing with it, thumbing it to circle around over and over. Maybe he does it to ground himself. Maybe to remind himself that this is real. Right now, it’s the latter.

“That first time you kissed me…” Chris whispers, leaning over, smile on his lips.

“Yes, dear heart?” Wesker says back, shuffling papers.

_ Dear heart. Silly little pet name, really.  _

“I had dreamt about that for,” he breaks to think, “I don’t know how long consciously.”

The other man laughs, moving to look at Chris, catching a glimpse at him in the act of messing with the wedding band. “You never actually told me if it was any good.”

Chris pauses. He doesn’t have to think about it. “It was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me sneaking a marriage in on that last one like it's nothing
> 
> anyways, a final thank you to everyone that read/commented/kudo'd/bookmarked/etc! and for sticking around for the end!
> 
> when i started this, i didn't really know where everything was gonna go and all the specifics, but i'm happy that it came out this way :)) 
> 
> i also do plan to write more depending on motivation and school (i'm even writing something now! not this ship however)--hopefully i'll get around to another fic in this tag because i really do like this ship a lot :)


End file.
